A Senseless Waste of My Life at 40
By this time I was 40 years old. After I left the University I had only worked for one big company. A big company, I have been told, is different in China because it is like a small city. We work and live in the same place which all has a wall around it. Often, for days on end we never left our area of perhaps a city block in America. I did not know what life is like outside my company. I did not have any contact with society outside my company. I only had known the men who I worked with. But, in prison I saw people of every hue. There was a great dividing line between intellectual and non-intellectuals. Bad elements outside the prison also behaved badly in prison.
In prison, we all struggled with our plight, but some of us rallied together to struggle with the adverse circumstances. I tried to persuade people to show consideration for each other, but often it was a vain. We political offenders were mostly intelligent and well behaved. We were not punished as often with beatings, etc. unless, of course the guards had the time to spare and sensed that someone might be acting as if they were “better than” others.
In addition to hunger making us suffer, the cold was so terrible. Because the guards would not allow us to move around the cold seemed worse and could sink into our bones. In addition, we were always hungry and low on energy, so even if we could move we didn’t feel like it. The hunger and cold together were a painful and sometimes deadly combination. Many of us had no padded clothes. Fortunately as a prisoner, I received one blanket, which I often draped over my shoulders. Whenever I found a good administrator I always said that I needed padded clothes. Sometimes he would reply, “You bourgeois element.”
But, the worst suffering was due to the senselessness of our lives. It often made us feel terrible misery. We looked forward to eating and “let in the fresh air” which happened twice a day. Otherwise our lives seemed most miserable because we could do almost nothing. It was such a senseless waste of time. I would always dream of having a book to study so that I did not have to just sit and stare in space. Sometimes we were able to sneak learning experiences.
For example, there was a lecturer and engineer named Mr. Wu who had been an engineer at the Xi’an Electric Furnace Company. He had even studied abroad in his early years in Japan in the 1960’s. He had worked in Shenjang where the Japanese were located in China. In the 1970’s a famous Japanese man named, Gao Qi Da Zhi Zhu came to China to meet with a famous Chinese man named Liao Cheng Zhi. They agreed to meet in Beijing. Mr. Wu went to their Beijing hotel. He thought over the danger of this action. He used an alias. Now this “one beat, three oppose” movement included people who could be Japanese spies and he was cast into prison. We all learned much about electrical engineering with his widespread knowledge. We probed technology regularly in this respect. This way we made some use of our time.
There also was a man locked up with me who knew Arabic. For two weeks I was able to study Arabic with him until we became afraid that someone might inform against us and so we gave up. There was a man with us who had been an interpreter for a leading USSR specialist. He was charged with being a revisionism spy. He was called a “Red Imp” which is a term of endearment in addressing a child and red means of the Communist Party. He was born into an early Communist family in Harbin. He followed the USSR specialist traveling back and forth between China and Russia in the 1950’s and 60’s. Frequently he was invited to stand on the Ti’an gate during festivals. He ate rare foods and had a big capacity for eating. After China and USSR turned against each other and stopped being friends the Chinese showed him no mercy. He was cast into prison as a Russian Spy. He felt extreme hunger. He bartered a watch and woolen sweater for steamed bread of corn. I had said that food would be strictly forbidden to enter prison from the family. They were allowed to send in one quilt with cotton wadding, one towel and one mug. Then it was added that a few bits of sugar ginger was allowed because it may prevent disease. I was fortunate that whenever a prisoner’s family member carried something in, many times people shared it with me because they knew I had no one near-by.
I had been in prison here for six long months and my old mother, brothers and sisters who were in Shanghai and Guangzhou did not know for sure where I was. Many times I asked prison authorities to allow me to send a letter. Finally, one day they allowed me to write and two weeks later, my oldest sister sent me a parcel from Shanghai. It had a lot of toilet paper and several kilograms of sugar. Prison authorities only gave me part of the toilet paper and only about half of a kilo of sugar.
I felt much suffering when I thought about myself. But, other thoughts caused me to feel relief. As I looked back at that year when my fiancée wanted us to break-up, I now realized that it was for the best. I am afraid I could not bear the mental agony if we had married and then I was sent to prison. I would have felt more sorry for her having her husband sent to prison.
Prisoners mostly talked about food and past times of good eating. Northeastern people talked about the special northeastern dishes, we southern people talked about our southern dishes and Xi’an people talked about their local dishes. The more we talked, sometimes, the more hunger we felt. Sometimes we literally drooled with envy over describing an especially delicious dish.
One day when a “good” administrator heard about our talk, he gave us a scolding. He said that we were as those in the “capitalist class”. I agree that maybe “eating” is an enjoyment of capitalist class, but does that mean that the proletariat does not want to “eat” or does not have hunger or does not want to have simple pleasures of life.
This was one of my biggest mistakes that I often made comments and had sharp things to say when I should have been silent. In America, I think, I might be called a “smart Alec.” This certainly could be called a bad quality of mine, but I feel that I have more than paid the price for it and regardless what the consequence, I have not learned to control myself. I have noticed that my American teacher is like me in that respect.
She often makes “smart Alec” comments, which to me seem very clever and funny. Of course she does not make comments about the Chinese Government or Communism. In America, it seems OK to say almost anything.